


the boy with the blue, blue eyes

by httpsigh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, This was somehow inspired by a Criminal Minds episode, and it's always sad music being played, and one day it's not sad music anymore, but that's not the entire plot, i'm sorry if this makes you sad, it's sad, just someone who lived by poor lou, so proud i finished this, the pov is from a random person, there's a piano, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsigh/pseuds/httpsigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the piano player always plays sad music, and then one day it's happy. but then it's sad again. and then it stops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the boy with the blue, blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this story! Feel free to leave any comments below!

When I was younger, there was a house I would pass by every day when I walked home from school. It was a tiny, isolated house on a small hill with a murky green painted on its exterior. In some places, the paint had begun to chip off. There were a few shrubs by the front door, usually dying from lack of water. To the side where piles of weeds mixed in with planted flowers, filling in the perimeter of the front area. 

Every day, as I passed this little house, I could distantly hear the delicate keys of a piano being played, working together to create a beautiful piece. They were never the same, but always played with such preciseness. The songs were sad, melodious tunes that sent chills through your spine as you recognized the pain behind the music. I constantly wondered who played in the small house; I wondered who could be so sad. 

One day, the music changed. 

Instead of the usual gloomy sounds, a lively tune come from the house on the hill. Keys were hit and I could hear laughter from the sidewalk. I walked a little closer to the house the next day and managed to peek inside. 

There were two people sitting by the large piano, instead of the one I expected. One was petite, with feminine like features but it was obvious it was a male. He was dressed lazily in an old shirt and sweats. The beanie on his head hid his hair but wisps of chestnut colored hair peeked out. He had blue, blue eyes which stared at the other boy adoringly. This boy has curly brown hair, which too was hidden in a beanie. His mouth moved slowly as he spoke, motioning to the keys. 

I didn’t want to be caught, so I kept on walking after a moment or so. 

The next day, I snuck by the window. It was open today causing the music to flow loudly through the window. In the corner, the curly-haired boy sat quietly. The other boy, the one with the blue, blue eyes, sat at the piano, small fingers pressing down on the keys. Once again, the music was happy. I noticed the passion the smaller boy had, his eyes closed shut as he moved across the keyboard. In his face, not an ounce of worry could be found. He was relaxed. 

Green eyes met by brown ones and I nearly tripped over my own two feet. The boy in the corner didn’t say anything; instead he lightly laughed and winked before he closed his eyes once more. 

I didn’t look into the house for two days straight.

When I did again, I saw the same scenario. Except, the curly haired boy was sat on top of the piano, whispering into the other boy’s ear.

“Lou, you play wonderfully. I don’t understand-”

“You won’t ever understand, Harry,” Lou responds in a hushed tone, sadly smiling, “I love that you want me to, but I don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

“You have talent-“

“Not now,” Lou shakes his head at Harry, who frowns but returns to his corner and allows Lou to play in silence. The song he plays is bland; there is no emotion to it. I hope Lou, whoever he is, is okay.

The following day, pleasant music comes from the small house. I peek into the window and smile to see the two boys sat beside each other. Harry takes the left side of the keyboard, hitting his notes while Lou does the same on the right. The boys play in harmony together, enjoying each other’s presence and smiles painted on their faces. I hope to find someone who, one day, will make me as happy as the two boys sat in front of the grand piano. 

The happy music continues to flow from the house for months. Occasionally, I sneak a peek through the window. I’m usually faced with Lou playing the piano while Harry quietly enjoys the music in the corner. Sometimes, a beautiful picture is created where both boys play a song or one is staring fondly at the other. I believe Lou may have found his happiness until one day; shouts reach my ears instead of a piano lullaby. I quietly make my way towards the house, sitting beneath a window.

“Why can’t you just drop it? I don’t want to do it alright?”

Lou is speaking quickly and angrily, he throws something to the ground but there is no sound of an object shattering. Harry’s voice comes next, quiet and defeated. 

“It’s a great opportunity for you; I just wish you would see that.”

“I don’t want to go to fucking London! I don’t want to leave here, I like it. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful.”

“I get that, but-”

“Is this because you want to get rid of me?” Lou asks accusingly. I can sense Harry’s anger before he’s shouting. 

“How dare you, you know I would never want that! The fact that you think- Louis, why can’t you just get it through your head that I want what’s best for you?”

I hide myself when I hear footsteps nearing the front of the house; I squirm behind a bush of plants. The door slams and then it’s quiet. I hear a small whimper, “Because no one else has.”

My heart breaks when I realize how broken Louis must be. But I can’t do anything because he doesn’t know me and I don’t know him. So, once Harry angrily drives away, I push myself up and walk back to my house a few blocks away. 

I choose not to visit the house when I hear a sad song coming through its window the next afternoon. I pray it will be replaced with a cheery one the following day.

I was wrong. 

As I pass the house, another tragic tune came to my ears. Soundlessly, I make my way to the house and peeked inside. Louis is sat quietly at his piano, fingers effortlessly pressing on the keys. His eyes are closed but I can see tear imprints of his cheeks, footprints of sadness marking their trails. His tears continue to flow until he stops playing and simply sits there. 

The next day, when I peek through the window, I notice there is no music. Louis is at his piano, but he simply stares down at the keys as if they were some foreign object. He doesn’t move his hands to the musical instrumental nor do his eyes lift to a music sheet that would occasionally appear. I decide to not spend too much time watching him like a stalker and continue my walk home.

By the next evening, I’m relieved to hear music leaving the house again, though it is pained music. I know when I look through the window; I will find Louis sitting sadly as he plays. I continue my walk home without any stops. 

Months pass and the depressing music never changes. There isn’t a day where suddenly a cheery tune flows from the window. It’s always the same, gloomy melody. Two weeks into November, I walk up to the window and find Louis playing the piano, eyes closed as tears continue to scar his face. 

Three weeks into December, the day before Christmas, I’m walking home from a snow day in the park when I don’t hear any music coming from Louis’ house. Cautiously, I make my way towards the window. My stomach drops when I don’t see a piano in the large room. I never noticed how large the room actually was. There’s a figure sitting silently in the corner, face tucked into his knees. Small sobs leave his body but I don’t say anything and carry on walking home, where a warm cup of cocoa awaits me. 

The following week, I’m told of a man who lived several blocks away from me. He fell in love with another man who left him. But he never fell out of love. He played melodies for days, wishing his sorrow away, but they, unlike his lover, never left. 

He was found on his piano room floor, overdosed on pain killers and an unknown drug. A note lay beside him, reading;

"Maybe the pain killers will take away my pain."

He was found with his blue, blue eyes wide open and somehow filled with pain, but empty at the same time. And I wonder just how sad this man had to be to stop playing even the saddest of tunes.


End file.
